Work Text:
I'm beyond exhausted.
I don't think I've had a decent night sleep in weeks. I don't know the exact reason why, but I also can't find out since going to a doctor would basically guarantee my arrest. I have a feeling its my heart going bad. I used to go to the doctor every three months to keep an eye on it since my blood pressure was high, and heart attacks ran rampant in my family, but I haven't been checked since last year.
The situation I'm currently in is also probably not doing me any favors.
There are plenty of days where my heart just pounds in my chest all day and all night. They used to be infrequent, but now its every week, sometimes even two times a week. I'm convinced its my body telling my brain what it won't accept, which is what I have right now will not last forever. Of course I've known since the beginning that my current arrangement with Ponyboy was temporary. A desperate attempt at one final hurrah before he was forcibly taken away from me and put back with his real family.
And it was a big hurrah. It was so thrilling being here the first few months, just him and I alone, living out my wildest fantasy. However, as more and more time has passed, I've come to the sobering realization that one day this will all end. I don't know exactly how it will happen, but I know it will happen one way or another.
The first scenario I have in mind is that I will let him go.
I would load him into the car and drop him off somewhere in town. Then I'd either make a run for it and hope I don't get caught, or just surrender myself to a police station. Although this would be the most painless scenario, it's also the most unrealistic. I know deep down I would make it a mile down the road before changing my mind and driving us both back home, where he could be mine once more.
The second scenario is that I will kill him.
He was dead to everyone else besides me anyway, so it really wouldn't make much of a difference in the world. I wouldn't be cruel about it. I'd probably just take him behind the shed and put a bullet in his skull so fast he wouldn't have been able to feel any fear or pain. Then I'd bury his body on the property and go on with my life without him. A part of me loves the idea. That if I killed and buried him here, he'd be mine forever. I wouldn't have to give him back to his friends, his family, the world. He could remain in the backyard under my thumb for the rest of time, never knowing freedom again.
Even though I'm exhilarated by the thought, this scenario has the same issue as the previous one, which is that I would never have the guts to actually go through with it. Because even though I’ve tried to convince myself he’s on the same level of an animal, a pet, I still can’t imagine myself being the one that ends his life like it means nothing.
The third scenario is that he will escape.
That one day I'll get sloppy and forget to lock the door and he'll just slip out before I have the chance to catch my mistake. In the beginning, if that had happened, I'd probably get in my car and drive up and down the road until I found him. I would drag him into the car and then back into the house, where the chain would become permanent part of his attire. Now, I'd probably just shut the door behind him and enjoy my last few hours of freedom before the authorities arrived to take me away.
Sometimes I find myself hoping that he'd do that. There have been a few occasions where I purposely left the front door unlocked and excused myself to the bathroom. I always felt a strange twinge of both relief and dread when I'd return a few minutes later to him still in the kitchen or sitting on the couch. I knew deep down that this scenario was unlikely due to the boy's crippling fear of me. He'd probably assume that the unlocked door was a test, and that not passing that test would only bring him more pain and suffering.
So now, I find myself at a standstill, in limbo, waiting for my actions to come crashing back down on me, having no idea when and how it will happen, and that scares me more than anything. My previous position in society is meaningless. They all know what I did. I'm hated across the nation, and I know my money can't protect me anymore. I will be prosecuted harshly, I'll be lucky if I'm spared the electric chair. However, the scariest part will be going to jail. Criminals tolerate a lot, but they infamously don't tolerate people like me, which makes me consider a forth option.
Maybe I should just kill myself.
"Hey," a soft voice from behind me says, making me jump slightly. I then feel two hands rest on my shoulders, massaging the stiff muscles gently. "What were you thinking for dinner?" Ponyboy asks. I don't respond right away, only letting out a quiet hum to let him know I heard him. I reach back slowly, resting my hand on top of his.
"Take the night off. I'll get us some food in town," I say, and a small smile forms on his lips. "You deserve a treat," I remark, standing up before I almost double over due to my back, which had also been giving me a lot of grief.
"You alright?" Ponyboy asks with what sounds like genuine concern, although I know better.
"I'm fine," I reply, wincing as I straightened my neck and back. "Little sore. Old age."
"I think you should go see a doctor," Ponyboy mumbles, even though I've told him a dozen times that was not an option. I quickly raise my hand and slap him across the face, not hard enough that he falls over, but enough that it leaves a small red mark on his pale skin. I know it wasn't fair to do that, but I hated when he tried to give me any kind of instruction. I was the only one allowed to make decisions around here.
"I don't need a kid telling me what to do," I hiss, taking a step closer so that I was now touching his chest with my own. I stare down at him with an intense gaze. It doesn't escape me that this is pathetic on my part, considering I have about seven inches in height and over one hundred pounds on him, but it feels good nevertheless.
"You're right, you're right," he says, avoiding any eye contact with me. I smile, backing away before bending over and kissing him on the cheek where I had just struck him.
"I'll be back in an hour, okay?" I say, patting his arm firmly. He looks up and gives me a smile that I know is far from genuine. That always irritates me, but I can't force him to be happy, especially not here. I have high standards, not impossible ones. "Be good," I remark as I walk out the door, shutting and locking it securely behind me.
I stand still on the porch for a few moments, one hand over my sore chest, another resting on the door knob. A scene of me ripping open the door, unchaining Ponyboy and demanding he run far, far away from here flashes before my eyes. I visualize myself being cut down from a noose by police as they scavenged the house for evidence, a small smirk on my otherwise lifeless face, signifying that I had won. That even though this was all over, they never got me. It ended on my terms and I never got a second of punishment.
A single tear falls down my cheek. I laugh. I laugh at myself for having the audacity to think I could be anything other than a coward.
I take my hand away from the door, turning around quickly before walking briskly to the car. I sit in the passenger seat and try to catch my breath to no avail. My heart beats even harder, and my chest tightens more than I thought possible.
I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't expect for it to get this big. As time has gone on, and I've made the situation more and more irreversible, I've grown to want nothing more than to be able to go back in time and just let him go back to his family. He probably would've kept his mouth shut, and just gone the rest of his life trying to forget about me, and I would've gotten away with it all, have my cake and eat it too.
But of course I had decided I wasn't ready to let go, and now, it will be my end.